


Alone

by Legal_Assassin



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alone, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Quest, Rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legal_Assassin/pseuds/Legal_Assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're on your own, Fenris." With those words his will to fight vanishes and he prepares to go back to a life of slavery. But someone unexpected comes to his rescue right before his memories are wiped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for a prompt asking for a take on the “Alone” quest where Hawke hands Fenris over to Danarius and an unlikely person comes to the rescue. Let me just say this first chapter is going to be the hardest one to write; not only do I have to watch the scene over and over again to get an idea of how it will go, I feel like I’m the one betraying Fenris.
> 
> But afterwards it’ll be smooth sailing. So please bear with me on the first chapter.

She was real; his sister was real.

Part of Fenris suspected it was another trap meant to lure him into the open, that the person who claimed to be his sister was a decoy. Still, he wanted to know for sure, to see for himself.

And she wasn’t; the vague memories that began to surface in his mind had a younger version of her, laughing and running ahead of him, calling out something he couldn’t quite make out but he was sure it was his name. He did have a family before the ritual.

He had a life.

The red-headed elf, his sister, looked towards him and Hawke as they approached her table at the Hanged Man. With them were Varric and Anders in case anything happened.

“It really is you…” she murmured, gaze aimed at the table.

“Varania?” The memories became clearer. “I remember you. We played in our master’s courtyard while mother worked.” A woman with dark hair and lines around her eyes floated to the surface. “You called me…” What was it? He tried to recall the name.

Fenris remembered just as Varania spoke.

“Leto.” She got up and turned her head away. “That’s your name.”

“What’s wrong?” He frowned. “Why are you so…?”

Something was wrong. The instincts he gained while on the run screamed for him to run, to get out of here.

Next to him, Hawke cursed. “It’s a trap! We need to get out of here!” Before anyone could make a move, however, an all-too familiar voice called down.

“Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always.”

Fenris whirled around and faced the stairs leading to the top floor of the Hanged Man. Sure enough, Danarius and a group of Tevinter soldiers were making their way down towards him.

They knew…they knew he would be here and waited for him. But how did they know?

Only one possible explanation.

“I’m sorry it came to this, Leto.” Varania was facing him, but her gaze was slightly lowered like she was trying to hide something.

Pain and anger flared up inside Fenris.

“You led him here!” he growled, angrily glaring at her and forcing her to take a few steps back.

 _How could you?! You betrayed your own brother! Set this up so I would come and be recaptured!_ Enraged words that he wanted to say filled his mind. Any yearning he had left to meet his sister burned up with his rage.

“Now now, Fenris. Don’t blame your sister.” Danarius said, like he was scolding a runaway dog. “She did what any good Imperial citizen should.”

The anger from his sister’s betrayal, the memories of forced servitude, and the pain he felt when he was ordered to kill those who had sheltered him and were willing to fight against his master for his freedom; all of this bubbled inside Fenris like a pot of boiling water.

“I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius!” He angrily pointed to the lyrium brands on his skin. “But I won’t let you kill me to get them!” The glare aimed at his former master was burning.

The amused chuckle surprised him.

“How little you know, my pet.”

Danarius turned to Hawke, appraising her.

“This is your new mistress, then? The Champion of Kirkwall; quite lovely.”

Fenris waited for Hawke to retort back that she wasn’t his mistress and he wasn’t a slave just as she did three years ago to the slavers who came at him. His fingers twitched in anticipation, ready to grab the sword on his back and fight like he planned when he grew tired of running. This would end here and now.

Hawke’s next words weren’t what he was expecting.

“If you want him, he’s yours.”

Fenris turned to Hawke in disbelief and shock.

“What?!”

He felt like a knife had been driven into his back. _Please, Hawke,_ he thought, _tell me you didn’t mean that. Tell me that was a joke. I can’t face him alone, not like this._

“I thought I was the only one thinking that.” Anders remarked, smugly. That didn’t surprise Fenris; the abomination had no love for him or his anti-mage views. Of course he would support Hawke’s decision.

“You’re kidding, right?” Varric asked, frowning with disapproval.

“Interesting.” Danarius was pleasantly surprised. “I’ll make it worth your while, of course. The power of the Imperium will be at your disposal.”

Fenris turned to Hawke, desperate.

“Don’t do this, Hawke.” Not once did he ever think he would have to beg. “I need you.”

Hawke looked at him, no hint of empathy or compassion in her eyes. Her voice was cold and harsh.

“You’re on your own, Fenris.”

She was really going through with it. This betrayal hurt even more than Varania’s; it felt like a knife had gone into his chest and cut out a part of him.

Fenris glared at Hawke.

“I suppose I should not be surprised.”

Rather than angry, his voice came out pained.

“That’s our Champion!” Varric muttered, sarcasm and disgust heavy in his voice.

Anders said nothing, wasn’t even smiling triumphantly like Fenris thought he would be. It almost seemed like his mind was elsewhere but here.

“What shall it be, Fenris?” Danarius asked from behind. “Will you throw your life away?”

Had this been any other time, Fenris would’ve drawn his blade and faced Danarius regardless of the overwhelming odds. He would’ve gone against whatever was thrown at him and tried to at least fight for his freedom. Better to die fighting back than to go back to complacency.

Now, however, Hawke’s betrayal left him drained. Any will to fight he had left was gone.

He was tired of running, tired of trying to put his life as a slave behind him, and tired of searching for a ray of light to lead him to freedom only for it to go out when he was close enough to grasp it.

Fenris bowed his head as though it suddenly became heavy and turned to Danarius.

“No…I will go with you.”

His voice sounded empty.

“Lovely.” The magister purred. He motioned to one of the soldiers, who stepped forward to bind Fenris’s wrists together and remove his sword from his back. Another walked over to Hawke with a small pouch of money. “Here’s a token of my appreciation, Champion. I’m sure I can arrange for something more…appropriate, sent along soon.”

Fenris kept his gaze to the ground, not wanting to look at anyone.

“Come along, everyone! The boat leaves for Minrathous within the hour.”

One soldier went behind the elf, keeping a hand on his shoulder while everyone left the Hanged Man and made their way to the docks. To keep him from making any sudden moves, of course. After all, he couldn’t be trusted until his memory was wiped again.

Not that it would matter anyways; Fenris had no desire to escape.

They reached the ship half an hour before departure. Fenris was taken below deck to the hull, where cages for captured (or in his case, recaptured) slaves filled the space. Before he was unceremoniously shoved into one, his armor was removed-the less protection he had, the less motivation he had to attempt escape-and the rope bindings around his wrists were replaced with metal cuffs etched with what he assumed was lyrium. When the metal made contact with his markings, they grew cold as ice instead of the burning he felt nearly every day.

“In case you get any ideas, slave.” The guard hissed before pushing him into the cage and locking the door.

Fenris kept his face impassive while the guard checked to make sure he was secure and there were no weak spots. Once the man left, he curled into a ball in the corner of his cell.

No one else was around.

Fenris was alone.

The tears he had been holding back fell freely.

**Author's Note:**

> QAQ
> 
> Dammit…that was the hardest thing for me to write.
> 
> I ended up taking a break to make my character for “Changeling: The Lost” while writing (and those who know what it’s about would also know it was enough motivation to get me back to finishing this chapter; the stuff changelings go through makes Fenris’s experience as a slave seem like an afternoon picnic!)
> 
> But this was the most depressing part of the story, so things only get better from here!


End file.
